James Bond: All Work And No Play Makes Q A Dull Boy
by IBegToDreamAndDiffer
Summary: Q works too hard. James can fix that. 007 always gets what he wants, Q's a tease, and everyone knows what the two get up to in the Quartermaster's office. See warnings inside.


**JAMES BOND**

**ALL WORK AND NO PLAY MAKES Q A DULL BOY**

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**Author's Note:**

**Pairing: **James Bond/Q

**Warnings: **Graphic m/m sex, explicit language, mentions of violence, d/s elements, PWP

**Disclaimer: **James Bond belongs to Ian Fleming and various other people/studios/publishers. I own nothing but the plot and make no money from this story.

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The slick, wet sound of James fucking his gorgeous young Quartermaster filled the office. Their skin slid together, covered in sweat long before their excursion started. James prided himself on knowing what his bed partner wanted (and even when they weren't _in _a bed, James knew just what to do).

Q was seated atop him, his head thrown back, curly brown hair sticking in clumps to his forehead and neck. He was riding James slowly, grinding his pert arse against James' lap every time he dropped down. James had a hand on each cheek and squeezed tight every time he filled Q completely, his blunt nails digging into soft flesh and leaving marks that would later bruise. James _loved _running his tongue over those crescent-moon shapes, remembering how they'd got there, and the delightful noises the younger man made got him hard all over again.

Q let out a soft moan, his mouth dropping open, lips swollen and blood red. He tugged the bottom one between his teeth and dug in as his head flopped forward. His chin against his chest, he looked up at James from beneath dark lashes, green eyes glossed-over with pleasure. His cheeks were dusted pink, and he had a vibrant red mark against his neck that he was sure to yell at James for later.

The double-oh tugged his partner forward and caught his lips for a hungry kiss, his teeth replacing Q's in dragging his bottom lip out, earning another lustful moan. Q's inner muscles fluttered and squeezed around the agent's cock, and James bit harder into Q's lip to stop from coming right there. He'd been with a lot of people in his forty-six years, but Q was hands down the best. His looks and fashion sense made him appear younger than he was, he was far more intelligent than anyone else working at MI6, and he lived off Earl Grey tea and cupcakes. But in the bedroom he was an animal, knowing exactly what he wanted, and he took it without asking if he knew his bed partner was up for it.

And James was _definitely _up for it.

Q's movements quickened, the man pushing up with his toes and bouncing, forcing James further into the office chair. James might have been fucking him, but Q was on top- as he usually was- and all the agent could do was hold on for dear life and try and help the young genius' movements.

Q's fingers moved from gripping James' shoulders. His finger-tips ghosted down the agent's chest, thumbs brushing both nipples, and moved down to his stomach. He moved back up, nails now digging in, and James shivered as his nipples were pinched.

The Quartermaster smiled coyly. 'Are you okay there, 007?'

James bit his lip. '_James_, dear Quartermaster.'

'I'll call you what I want when I'm riding you into the chair,' Q stated.

James groaned and let his head fall back. 'Damn you.'

Q squeezed his muscles, arse gripping James' cock, and grinned when the agent grunted and swore.

'I hate you.'

'You love me.'

'I'll throw you over your table and fuck you if you don't shut up,' James said through gritted teeth.

Q offered him a pout. They rarely switched positions; nine times out of ten it was James topping, Q bottoming- Q did _so _enjoy dominating while on his back. Sometimes James let Q fuck _him_, but the two much preferred it the other way around.

And Q really, _really _liked "topping from the bottom", as they say. Letting the infamous James Bond fuck him, but having complete control over their coupling, got Q off far better than anything else. He enjoyed a good pounding, yes, but he definitely preferred their usual arrangement.

'There's no need to be mean, _James_.'

''m not being mean,' James grunted and snapped his hips.

Q gasped as he bounced, toes almost leaving the floor, before slamming back down again. Both let out twin moans and Q tipped his head forward to rest his forehead against James'. 'Damn you.'

'You love me,' James echoed Q's earlier words.

Q grinned and pecked James on the cheek. James quickly turned, capturing Q's swollen lips with his own, and the Quartermaster hummed as they exchanged soft kisses, their movements back to tender and slow.

James ran his hands up and down Q's strong thighs, the muscles beneath bulging with the strain of keeping Q moving. Q sighed and hooked his arms around the blonde's neck, placing gentle kisses to the sweat-covered skin of his jaw and cheek.

'I do love you,' Q murmured.

'I know,' James replied. 'You need to stop working so hard.'

Q huffed. 'Do you _really _want to get into that in the middle of sex?'

'It's the only time you'll listen.'

'You work hard too,' Q muttered.

'It's hard to take a break when people are shooting at me,' James pointed out.

'And it's hard to take a break when people are shooting at my boyfriend,' Q replied.

James chuckled. 'Well when they're _not _shooting at me, or the other double-ohs, you need to rest and eat.' He ran his right hand up Q's slim hip and side. 'You're far too skinny.'

'Moneypants brings me food, and my minions put a futon in here after the last time I passed out on my table.'

James growled. 'Why didn't you tell me about that?'

Q blinked and drew back to look his partner in the eyes. 'About the futon or the passing out?'

'Both!' James snapped.

'Oh, well... it didn't seem important,' the younger man shrugged.

'Not important?' James growled. 'First, when and why did you faint? Second, this chair isn't made for sex; we could have fucked on the futon.'

'We can fuck on the futon later,' Q waved a hand dismissively. 'It was about a week ago, you were in Guatamala for three weeks, and I was working with both you and 005. I forgot to eat, I ran out of Earl Grey, and my minions were being thick. I passed out and Moneypants made one go and buy a futon- out of your bank account, by the way- so I could have somewhere semi-comfortable to sleep.'

James was seething. If there were two things he hated nearly as much as Q over-working himself, it was the minions not taking care of their leader properly, _and _005.

Q gave James a crooked smile and dropped completely, feeling the agent's rather thick cock press against his prostate. He bit his bottom lip and rolled his hips, feeling James' move inside him. It stimulated his prostate and a moan broke free from his lips.

James cursed and grabbed Q's arse, squeezing each cheek tightly. 'Don't try to change the subject, you minx,' he growled.

'I'm doing nothing of the sort,' Q breathed heavily.

'I'm forced on seven days leave after every three days in the field,' James said, 'you should be too.'

'Can we not discuss work while having sex?' Q asked.

'We're in your office, Q, and there are no doubt a fair few minions and Moneypenny with their ears pressed against the door.'

Q laughed. The glass walls of his office could be made opaque with the simple press of a button. It only happened when a) Q had private meetings with M, Tanner, or any of the other higher ups and b) when James Bond was in. No matter what time of day it was, or whether or not James had seen Q only half-an-hour before, the double-oh enjoyed his private time. He always left a flustered Quartermaster behind, so really the minions (and everybody else) knew what the two had been doing when the windows were blacked out.

Q was still rolling his hips, the chair rocking back and forth with his movements. The back was pressed to the large table Q used instead of a desk, and the soft _thump-thump-thump _echoed around the rather sterile room. James' breathing was quickening- they'd been going at this for a good twenty minutes- and Q was close to breaking the skin of his lip if he bit any harder.

'We're not done,' James muttered and leaned forward to tease the soft, wet skin of Q's neck with his teeth.

Q tilted his head, eyes glazed over behind his thick glasses. 'About 005 or the fainting?'

'I'm buying you a mini-fridge so you can't ignore eating, you little bastard,' James snarled, 'and I'm going to punch 005's face in for flirting with you.'

'He's calmed down since learning I'm seeing you,' Q hummed, 'though I don't believe he knows just how much danger he's in.'

'You're _mine._'

'Everyone at MI6, the café we frequent, _and _my favourite book store knows that, dear.'

'005 should know better, then, so it's not my fault if he goes missing,' James stated rather matter-of-factly.

Q giggled but didn't say a word. He'd tip off Moneypenny so she could warn 005- _properly_- that he was facing execution if he kept flirting with 007's Quartermaster. Yes, Q worked with all the double-ohs, but it was no secret that James Bond was his favourite as well as his boyfriend. Everyone had learned quickly not to flirt with or leer at the young Quartermaster if they wanted to live to see their next birthday.

James' fingers were digging harder into Q's arse, telling the green-eyed man that James wanted to hurry things along. The fact that James _hadn't _thrown Q over the table was a testament to the blonde's self control, so Q rewarded his partner by speeding his movements and squeezing every time he took James in completely.

James moaned and Q let out a breathless sound that was a tear between James' name and a whine. James wasn't hitting his prostate, and Q shifted and wiggled to try and get James back, but the double-oh was a fucking tease!

'James,' Q whined.

'What's that, love?' the older man grinned.

'I'm going to give you the pink gun of doom,' Q threatened.

'No you aren't,' James smiled. He leaned forward to lick Q from his collarbone to his ear, tugging the lobe between his teeth. 'You love me too much,' he said, breath blowing across Q's ear.

Q shuddered and his hands went to the table behind James. Bracing himself, he pulled up until only the head of James' cock was in his arse, before dropping all the way back down. James swore harshly and Q did it again; and again and again and again, until the chair was thumping against the table, sweat rolled down both their bodies, and the office filled with their cut-off moans, cusses, and stutters of each others' names.

James' dick hit Q's prostate every third or forth thrust and it was enough to have Q cussing in a multitude of languages that threatened to tip the taller man over the edge. James' nails were close to breaking the milky-white skin of Q's arse, and Q just growled and rode him harder.

'Fuck, James, yes!' he groaned, head resting in the crook of James' neck. 'Fuck me, please!'

James really wasn't doing much of the work, so he took that to mean "hit my prostate, you arsehole!" So he snapped his hips, sweat helping him lift himself from the chair far enough to fuck Q harder.

'Oh _fuck_!' Q moaned. 'Fuck, _yes_! Oh God, just there, James!'

The sound of his name falling from Q's lips spurred James on, and he gripped Q's arse with one hand, using the other to creep between their bodies-

An electronic _trill _came from one of the screens hanging overhead and James swore harshly while Q halted all movement. James swore again when Q reached over him, snagged a keyboard, and set it between them.

'Q,' he growled warningly.

'I have work to do, 007,' Q sniped as he tapped at the keys. '005-'

'DON'T SAY HIS NAME!'

'- one of your fellow agents is in India and he might be in trouble,' Q corrected himself easily. 'I have a duty to take care of him as his Quartermaster.'

'Leave him to die,' James groaned, 'I'm horny!'

'It'll take just a second.'

'You work too much,' James complained for the four-hundredth time that week. He ran his hands up and down Q's sweaty back, ghosting over the back of his neck and grinning when Q shivered.

'So do you,' the genius pointed out.

'I still take time out of my busy schedule to meet your needs, Quartermaster.'

Q's lips quirked as he tapped at his keyboard, eyes focused on the screen over James' back. 'I know you do, and that's one of the many reasons I love you.'

James sighed; how could he argue with that? While he still had to shag various marks on some missions, Q was his _partner_. They- and James would never admit this out-loud except to Q and Moneypenny, because he loved Q and Moneypenny always knew when he was lying- _made love_, and everyone else was just sex. Q was who James came home to, who James lived with, who James _loved_. So he could admit defeat every now and then and let Q do what he wanted, while he cursed and complained.

Currently he was suffering a very serious case of blue balls. He had his dick buried in Q's gorgeous, tight arse, and it had been three weeks since they last fucked (making love was for the bedroom, and James could wait until later to properly take Q apart), but Q had work to do and James couldn't sway him if one of the double-ohs was in real trouble. Q took pride in his work, and James in Q, so the double-oh would just wait.

He went back to kissing, licking, and nipping Q's lovely neck and shoulders, earning giggles, hums, groans, and, 'James, stop that!' before the Quartermaster finally put his keyboard aside and caught the blonde's lips.

'The other double-oh is fine, resting in a motel, and sewing his arm up- do you all hate medical or is it just a select few of you?'

'003 likes medical,' James hummed. 'She's sleeping with one of the nurses.'

'Lee, Ellie, or Chris?' Q asked.

'Ellie,' James answered.

'Hmm, good for them.'

'Q,' James growled.

The genius chuckled and rolled his hips, both of them gasping.

'Q,' James warned again, his hands now gripping Q's hips tightly.

Q responded by squeezing himself around James' shaft, making the agent buck beneath him.

'Yes, 007?' he teased.

'That's it,' James snarled.

Q gasped as he was suddenly lifted, and his legs reflexively went around James' back. 'James!' he near-shouted as the double-oh stood, kicked the chair aside, and _slammed _him against the table. Q's Scrabble mug rocked with the movement, his keyboard almost went flying, and James growled as he hovered over the Quartermaster.

'Work time's over,' he snarled and drew back before slamming in, filling Q completely and striking his prostate.

The litany of curses Q had had ready died in the back of his throat. He thrust his head back and dug his fingers into James' well-developed biceps, a moan tearing free from his lips.

'Oh fuck!'

James just grunted as he fucked Q with abandon, hitting his prostate each time. He was rocking back and forth on his feet, Q's legs sliding down his back until James grabbed them and threw them over his shoulders. Q was thankful he did yoga (and James had laughed at him until he realised it made Q flexible) because James practically bent him in half, the green-eyed man's knees at his chest as James fucked him.

'J-J-James,' he choked out as the blonde's stomach rubbed at his neglected cock. 'James, I-'

'You're delicious, Q,' James moaned. 'Come for me!'

His hand- somehow- slid between their bodies, wrapped firmly around Q's shaft, and pulled in time with his thrusts.

'James,' Q moaned again. 'James, James, James, Ja... _Jaaammees_...'

The table slid across the tiled floor, the keyboard crashed to the floor, and James snarled as he slammed in and hit Q's prostate.

'JAMES!' Q screamed as he finally came, threads of white slicking both their stomachs and chests. His muscles convulsed around James, who kept pounding into him, panting heavily as he continued to milk Q's cock.

One of Q's legs slid from James' shoulder and the older man moved from Q's cock to grab it, holding the Quartermaster open. He leaned back and watched as his dick disappeared over and over again, and his blue eyes flicked up to catch Q's.

Q was panting heavily, bottom lip bloody where he'd bit into it, stomach and chest covered in his own come. He raised one hand and trailed his fingers through the mess before bringing his finger-tips to his lips and sucking them clean.

James finally lost it, shouting, 'Jack!' into the office as he pumped Q full. He always called Q by his real name when he climaxed, and a dopey smile spread across the smaller man's face as he watched pleasure overtake his agent.

When James was finally spent he dropped forward, resting on his forearms so as not to crush Q. His arms caged the younger man, and Q's legs wrapped back around his waist as he leaned up for a kiss.

They kissed softly, slowly, James chasing Q's taste until his tongue had done all it could. When they broke apart Q hummed and James asked, 'When are you off, then?'

'Sometime between eight and ten,' Q answered. 'Now that 005-'

James growled.

'- the other double-oh is safe, I can go home at some point tonight,' Q continued, smiling fondly at his boyfriend. 'But Tanner came in earlier, when I was helping 003 through a rather nasty sewer, and said something about budget reports, so no doubt he'll be down soon.'

'You work too hard,' James grumbled from where his face was pressed to Q's neck.

Q smiled and raked his fingers through James' shirt blonde hair. 'I know, but I love what I do, as you well know.'

'Mm,' James hummed. He pulled himself up and pecked Q on the lips. 'Just try to take more breaks, okay? And eat regularly.'

'Yes, dear,' Q smiled. A knock on the door made them both turn and Q cleared his throat. 'Yes?'

'_It's Tanner, we need to go over the paperwork you failed to hand in_,' the Chief of Staff's voice came through the solid door.

'Naughty Q,' James teased.

'Shut up.'

'Didn't do your homework?'

Q half-glared at his boyfriend and nudged him. James finally got up and slid from Q's exhausted body. He helped the younger man sit up before going to grab some tissues from the cupboard in the corner. After cleaning each other up they both got dressed, Q's clothing haphazard at best, while James of course looked like he'd just stepped off a runway somewhere.

Q scowled, James grinned, and Q disengaged the locks to let Tanner in. The door swung open, revealing the man as well as Moneypenny. The ex-field agent was grinning and had a package of fast food in one hand that Q immediately grabbed and started going through.

'Mm, sushi and chips,' he licked his lips.

'You're disgusting,' James said.

Q just gave him a quirky smile before dropping into his chair, pulling out a roll of sushi, and drowning it in soy sauce, while at the same time he crammed a handful of chips into his mouth.

Tanner wrinkled his nose as he sniffed the room- as if Q's clothing, swollen lips, and tousled hair didn't tell him what the couple had been doing- and said, 'Got a pen, Quartermaster?'

'Somewhere,' Q mumbled through a mouthful. 'James, tell a minion to make me some Earl Grey, would you? The first one here gets a new code to work on.'

James saluted his partner and stepped through the door. 'I'll see you at home, love.'

As he walked away he realised Moneypenny was following and looked down at her, eyebrows raised.

'I'm hungry, are you hungry?' She threaded her arm through his and said, 'Let's get some dinner,' so really James didn't have a choice.

He sighed and allowed her to drag him away. She had way too much interest in Q's sex life. Still, if it got her to make sure Q ate and took breaks regularly, James would indulge her.

Besides, he liked someone else knowing that Q was an animal in bed.

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{THE END}

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**Author's Note: **I have no idea, I just wanted to write 00Q smut. And so I did. So... there you go! I'm still working on a much longer 00Q fic (and I STILL haven't seen the bloody movie!), but I've got so many WIPs going that I don't have time to work on it properly, and I really shouldn't have written this one. But Johnny is in control, I have no say, so I have to do what he wants. Otherwise he goes crazy and I don't want to deal with that.

Anywho, I hope you enjoyed. Peace out dudes and dudettes!

Cheers,

{IBegToDreamAndDiffer}

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